Fleurs dans un Vase de Porcelaine
by Kitten Kisses
Summary: For the 365Drabbles community on LiveJournal. May contain spoilers. 004: "Fitting In". Sometimes she wondered why it was that she had been blessed with the opportunity to fit in. Tamaki, Haruhi.
1. 001: That Stupid Vase

**Fleurs dans un Vase de Porcelaine  
By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

**001: That Stupid Vase**

Thanks to the poor placement of a vase—or her own clumsiness, or a myriad of other things—she had been forced to enter a whole new world. Sure, the idea sounded cheesy and completely and utterly fake, but it was nothing short of the truth.

Ouran itself was a world of its own; an abyss separated the school from the rest of humanity. The Host Club, on the other hand, was a world that didn't belong to her, nor to the distinguished Ouran Academy. It was a world within a world.

All of the crazy people, the insane ideas, the cosplay, everything…was so different compared to what she had always considered the norm. (Not that Haruhi was really the type to pay attention to what was _normal_ or not.) Most high school students didn't drive a Rolls Royce or a Mercedes, but…most high school students would also consider themselves too old to pay elementary school games.

_Normal_ and _abnormal_ couldn't really be used to describe Ouran, let alone the Host Club.

Haruhi Fujioka stared blankly ahead at the six oddballs that called themselves the Host Club as she balanced a tray with snacks and tea on it in her hand. It was the beginning of another day in a rather strange world—where, for example, a snack cake cost more than her best pair of shoes—and it was all because of that stupid vase.

But maybe—just _maybe_—it was a good thing that the expensive glass monstrosity had been so inconveniently placed.

* * *

**…_xOx…_**

**Author Notes:**

This is a collection of drabbles. My first time writing for this fandom, so feedback is definitely appreciated. The title is French, and translates to _Flowers in a Porcelain Vase_. Thanks for reading!


	2. 002: Nights Like This

**Fleurs dans un Vase de Porcelaine**  
**By: Manna

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**

…_**xOx…**_

**002: Nights Like This**

Nights like this make him think of her. Maybe it makes him strange, maybe people might think he's being ridiculous, but when the sky lights up with terrible white electricity and the heavens rumble angrily, he remembers her.

It's only been four years, but she's busy with school and he has a business to run. (He can still hardly believe it.) He would love to go see her—she means more to him than he can really put into words, which is a shame considering he's supposed to be so eloquent—but her dreams must come before his.

So he sits in his office in that tall building that he owns, now, and he tries to picture her as he stares out at the thunderstorm, glad that it can't possibly be storming where she's at. Not yet.

With a smile, he leans back in his chair and puts his pen into a cup that probably cost him as much as the suit he's wearing.

While the thunder and lightning take their fury out on Tamaki Suoh, he watches through the windows and imagines Haruhi Fujioka huddled over a book. Her hair's in her eyes—she probably needs to get it cut—and she's got a pen in her hand and a pencil tucked behind her ear.

A few hours after the storm ends and the air is heavy and silent, he reaches for his phone and finds the most important number stored inside. Maybe he is being ridiculous, or even a little silly, but that storm should be getting close to her dorm right now. He hesitates, feeling unnecessarily nervous before finally managing to push the call button.

Three rings and he hears her tired voice in his ear, "What is it, Tamaki? You know, unlike _some_ people, I'm not done with school yet and that means I have studying to—"

"You can't even spare a few moments to talk to me?" He makes his voice as sad as possible, mostly for guilt-trip purposes.

And it works.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

Just…something. Yes. Thanks for reading.


	3. 003: Comfortable Silence

**Fleurs dans un Vase de Porcelaine  
By: Manna

* * *

  
**

…_**xOx…**_

**003: Comfortable Silence**

"I'll drive you home."

The words fell from her mouth so fast that she had no way of taking them back. She wasn't even sure why she spoke them for one long moment, that entire moment where all he did was stare almost blankly at her before finally giving her the smallest nod.

Oh, right. She felt so silly for speaking, for offering him a ride. It wasn't like he didn't have the money to call his driver, or to hail a cab. She was so used to offering people rides that it had started to become a habit. What a waste of money it would be to call a cab when she was right there with a car that had a full tank of gasoline!

But sometimes…sometimes she forgot that not everyone knew what it was like to be poor. She had attended college on a full-ride scholarship (or the closest thing to one), but she had been one of the only students who couldn't even afford a bicycle, and she absolutely refused to ask someone for help in that department. She would just walk; at least it gave her time to think.

Now, post-graduation, she had her very own car. Sure, it wasn't the most beautiful thing in the world, and as they made their way to her vehicle, she suddenly felt ashamed of it. Lined down the street were limousines, a Rolls Royce, a Mercedes Benz, even a Mitsubishi Spyder… Her ride was ten years old and a Civic.

She got in, face burning, and reached over to unlock the passenger door. She never cared much about what other people thought of her, but watching him try and get into her car made her feel…stupid. He was well over six feet tall, and his long legs were cramped, she knew they were.

"I'm sorry," she murmured as she started the car. She wished she hadn't offered to drop him off at all.

"It's okay." Short, sweet. It was just like Takashi Morinozuka to answer in such a fashion. She much preferred it to what some of the others might say about her living in poverty.

The ride was short. Neither of them spoke a word; she wondered if it was because he couldn't breathe with his legs scrunched up like they were. The silence wasn't unnerving, though; in fact, it put her at ease. Compared to the rambunctious, noisy party they had just come from, it was a beautiful change.

It took him a long time to get back out of the car because he had crammed himself inside so efficiently, but when he finally managed to do so, he leaned down and gave her the smallest of smiles. "Thank you for the ride, Haruhi."

She smiled back. "You're welcome. I'll see you at the next get-together?"

"Yeah." He straightened back up. "Take care." And with that, he gently closed the passenger-side door.

She pulled back down the driveway, but the new silence in the air was awkward and bothersome. She reached over and turned on the radio.

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…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes:**

I don't know. Just something random. Mori doesn't get the love he deserves.


	4. 004: Fitting In

**Fleurs dans un Vase de Porcelaine  
By: Manna

* * *

**

…_**xOx…**_

**004: Fitting In**

She knew that if it hadn't been for them, for that stupid vase, for that deep, deep hole she had dug herself that consisted of an insane amount of debt, she would have stuck out like the sorest of thumbs at Ouran Academy.

Sometimes she wondered why it was that she had been blessed with the opportunity to fit in. She was so different from everyone else there that she probably didn't deserve that chance to be at the top of the food chain, so to speak.

She _looked_ like she fit in. She dressed nice at school thanks to the Host Club. But it just… It…

It felt like a façade; she felt fake, even though she spoke her mind, as blunt and brutally honest as she was, sometimes. Her street clothes were mistaken for pajamas, her favorite foods were "commoner" food among her peers…

She had one Tamaki Suoh's arms in her hands; she was holding him so tight her knuckles were white. He looked shocked, maybe a little confused. He tried to smile at her.

"I don't belong here," she said firmly, forcefully. Maybe she was on the verge of tears. Maybe everything was getting to her now that he was only a few minutes from graduating and she still had an entire year left. The Host Club was falling apart, disintegrating. They could get new members, but it wouldn't be the same. "I don't belong here."

He let her clutch his arms. "What are you talking about, Haruhi?" he asked, still smiling so patiently.

She shook him slightly. "I don't fit in!"

He cocked his head to the side, "You've always fit in just fine."

"Only because of the Host Club," she admitted, finally letting him go. He didn't leave. "I'm not like you, like them." She waved a hand at the other assembled members, at Kyouya and the others about to finish high school. "Without these clothes, I'm—"

"—Still Haruhi," he finished, tousling her hair.

* * *

…_**xOx…**_

**Author Notes: **

I almost forgot about this. I've had this written for months.


End file.
